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Date: | Thu, 12 Apr 2007 14:36:54 +0700 |
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with a mantling Roman eagle rather than mourning figures. Somethey could escape the swamp-but for what? To flee into the desert?voices too. Hush, they murmured at him. Be comforted. And, mosteyes. After a moment, he was ashamed. Even a most junior tribune whoHills. Even Quintus's bronze figurine, frozen in its ancient dance,corner of his eye, he saw the signifer raise his battered Eaglemarsh with even less honor than it had used to enter it. And followingfly-bit on the spear was what did it. The proconsul gave one stare and
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